


Pin-Up

by moonflowers



Series: Harry is a spy and Eggsy is whatever I feel like [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Merlin is so done, Misunderstandings, Model Eggsy, Pin-Up Eggsy, Spy Harry, actually scratch that they're both ridiculous, but then what's new, harry is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: On the whole, Harry managed to ignore the simpering men reclining or leaning suggestively over various colourful props, and simply got on with things. Until May that was, when he flipped over the page to be faced with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. The boy was holding a bunch of rather lurid flowers in front of himself, blues and purples and pinks stark against his skin, smooth body apparently nude. He looked ever so sweet and just a tiny bit naughty, eyebrow raised in a hopeful, shy look, as though offering up the bouquet and himself right along with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon the lazy title. As requested, I've made the Pin-Up Eggsy thing into a longer fic. Chapters will probably be short and often - I find it easier. This first part is very similar to the original post, just a little bit longer.

Merlin had given it to him for Christmas as a joke, and a rather tame one at that, by their usual standards. From this, Harry deduced it must have been an incredibly slow period in the tech department for Merlin to stoop to searching it out - he was more of a 'hand over a bottle of quality alcohol and be done with it' sort of present-giver. Not that Harry didn't enjoy the booze of course, and in this case, he certainly wished his friend had stuck to the tradition of whiskey or brandy in a tartan bottle bag, accompanied by a truly terrible Christmas card.

This year however, the bottle and card had been accompanied by something else. A calendar. Hardly an outrageous gift for the time of year, but this one... well. It was gaudy and kitsch and matched with absolutely nothing else in his office, yet Harry still planned to hang up the dreadful ‘Pin-Up Boys’ calendar purely so Merlin _wouldn’t win._ He could only bear to give it a cursory look over - noting the sultry gaze of Mr December, oiled up and wearing nothing but a Santa hat and a smile, sprawled out by an open fire and in possession of a very large *ahem* and strategically placed box, amongst other delights. But, come January, he determinedly hung up the bloody thing all the same. 

As expected, Merlin did nothing more than roll his eyes when he first caught sight of Mr January pinned in pride of place above Harry’s desk, but it felt like a victory all the same. It wasn’t until that moment that Harry realised he had no choice but to keep the damn eyesore up all year now that Merlin had seen it, or he’d know Harry had relented and taken it down. And Merlin getting one up on him was most certainly not an option. 

"Bollocks."

Harry had the distinct feeling it was going to be a terribly long year. 

~

On the whole, Harry managed to ignore the simpering men reclining or leaning suggestively over various colourful props, and simply got on with things. He suffered under the watchful pouting of Mr January in nothing but his wellies and brandishing an umbrella, and Mr February in his hard hat putting up some shelves. Luckily he spent most of that month in Argentina, and didn't have to endure it overlong. Then came Mr March coyly covering himself with a cowboy hat, and Mr April, ridiculous in his bunny ears and a fluffy tail that raised a multitude of questions Harry wasn't sure he wanted answered. And so it went. Until May that was, when Harry flipped over the page to be faced with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. 

"Good grief..."

The boy was holding a bunch of rather lurid flowers in front of himself, blues and pinks and purples stark against bare skin, his smooth body apparently nude. He looked ever so sweet and just a tiny bit naughty, eyebrow raised in a hopeful, shy look, as though offering up the bouquet and himself right along with it. Harry stared for much longer than was appropriate, feeling every inch the sad old man these things were marketed at. His hair was dark blond and golden in a way that surely must have been enhanced, and Harry would bet Mr Pickle that the boy’s lips weren’t naturally that charming shade of pink. 

He gave himself a stern telling off for having such fancies whenever he caught sight of it throughout the month, but they did nothing to make Mr May any less attractive. Mostly, Harry was simply annoyed with himself for being so enamoured with a sodding _photograph,_ a pin-up boy in a tacky calendar, whose path would never have cause to cross with his own.  
When the month was through, Harry had gotten so unexpectedly attached, that he carefully removed Mr May’s picture from the rest of the pages, and furtively slid it into his desk drawer. Silly of him perhaps, but harmless enough - particularly compared to some of the quirks the other knights employed to keep them sane. Mr June, winking at him from under his fireman’s helmet and wielding a flatteringly large hose, was no competition.

~

Some weeks later, and it was a day like any other, unless you counted the fact that Harry was on the tube instead of in his lovely taxi. He was following a fairly low-threat mark across London, which unfortunately included forgoing the preferred Kingsman black cab in favour of the Underground. Things were going as smoothly as anticipated, until the train made it’s stop at Tottenham Court Road, admitting the crush of passengers typical for the time of day. As they boarded, someone stepped on Harry’s foot, and he was vividly reminded why he disliked the tube so much. 

“Shit, sorry bruv.”

Harry’s curt reply never made it past his lips, as he looked up to find himself face to face with none other than Mr May himself. Now, Harry was no great believer of coincidence, but this rather took the biscuit. “Quite alright,” he managed to force out, after gaping at the man for several long seconds. 

“Don’t ride the tube much, do you?” the young man said with a knowing smile, chin tilted up, and apparently his lips really were that charming shade of pink.

“How ever did you guess?” said Harry dryly, utilising every trick in the book to keep his pulse even.

Mr May smiled again but didn’t reply, instead pulling out his phone seemingly out of habit, huffing at the lack of signal. Harry was working up the balls to ask the eye-wateringly cliché question of “Excuse me, but you look familiar, have we met before?” when the young man beat him to it.

"So how come you's slumming it with us lot today then?" he asked, phone slid back into the pocket of his trackies and attention firmly back on Harry. "Wheels out of action, is it?" He was devastating. If Harry had found him attractive lit up by studio lights and polished to perfection, it was nothing compared to reality - though paler and younger-looking in the unforgiving lighting, his eyes were bright and full of good humour under the peak of his cap as he waited for an answer, both softer and sterner than the manufactured coyness of the photograph, bitten down fingernails and the charming smattering of freckles that must have been photo-shopped out. It took Harry a moment longer to find his tongue than he cared to admit.

"Not quite," he said, eventually, eye flicking quickly to where his mark was still lurking at the other end of the carriage. He cleared his throat. "I - fancied a change of scene."

"Is that right?" Mr May said, doubtfully eyeing the dingy carriage and bored passengers, "and how are you likin' the scenery so far?"

Harry blinked at him deliberately, let himself smile slowly in approval. "Better than expected."

The young man huffed in amusement, looking briefly down at his trainers before his gaze lifted back to Harry's, pinked up a little from his dreadfully on-the-nose flirting.

"Galahad," Merlin's voice came impatiently through the glasses comm, "I thought we agreed you'd let me know when you - " he cut himself off when he caught sight of what would be coming up on the video feed, the view of the cramped tube carriage. "Ah. Apologies, I see you're still in transit. Well, just buzz me when you - " he paused, and Harry could practically hear the smirk bloom across his face. "Is that Mr May?" 

"Oh for heaven's sake - " Harry hissed under his breath.

"What was that?" The young man frowned at him in confusion.

"I've just caught sight of the time," Harry said quickly with displeasure only partly feigned, "I'm running rather late, it seems."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Merlin said lowly in his ear.

Due to the public setting, Harry was unable to give that comment the reply he would've liked to, and so was forced to endure Merlin's smug, suggestive comments about pretty calendar boys and professionalism until the train came to a stop at Holborn. Which was, apparently, Mr May's stop.

“See you around, yeah?” the man said with a wink and one last blindingly beautiful grin, before he ducked along with the wave of passengers to hop onto the platform, leaving Harry feeling more at a loss than he had any right to, and a little more guilty about the picture hidden in his desk drawer.

"Well that was hideously unprofessional," said Merlin cheerfully in his ear, "flirting with youths while on the clock Galahad, tut tut..."

"Not one more bloody word, Merlin," he said low enough that hopefully the other passengers wouldn't hear, and fixed his attention back on the mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the plot loosely sorted, so we'll see how it goes... I'm trying to write about four things at once, so I'm not sure when the next part will be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was definitely the most enthusiastic response I've gotten to the first chapter of a fic before. Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the rest of this ridiculous thing.  
> This chapter is pretty short and mostly Harry being an utter numpty, featuring my headcanon that he is borderline addicted to ginger biscuits, and sarahstubbs95's suggestion that he starts taking the tube more often in hopes of meeting Eggsy again.

Harry spent the following weeks dropping in and out of an admittedly rather childish sulk. He'd known from the start that his infatuation with a photograph was illogical, but it had also been easy to push to one side safe in the knowledge that though perhaps a bit foolish, it was ultimately harmless. But now he'd met the young man, albeit it the briefest of encounters, he was no longer just a flat and airbrushed image of perceived perfection, but a living, breathing and unexpectedly enchanting person. Mr May was suddenly real and tangible, not just a naughty picture in Harry's desk drawer. And so on days at the office spent busily ignoring paperwork, Harry found his mind fell more often to the bold young man with the easy smile, parting wink and heavy handed application of Lynx deodorant, than to the shy boy holding the flowers. 

~

Harry's lately unpredictable mood took another downturn on his way to work one day, as he strolled past the posters and advertisements for every brand imaginable that lined the streets, and one of the many caught his eye. The reason that this one in particular grabbed his attention was that right in the middle, front and centre, was none other than Mr May, decked out in what had to be the most hideously patterned [swimwear](http://www.adidas.co.uk/infinitex_-pulse-graphic-swim-trunks/AY2816.html) the good people of Adidas had to offer. He looked down on passers by, chin lifted and eyes narrowed in challenge, as if he were either about to swim the Channel or punch somebody in the face. Harry wasn't sure if he should be eternally thankful or exasperated that the photograph was expertly angled so that it caught the swell of his rather lovely bottom under the clingy swimsuit, just as effectively as his beautiful face. He'd taken a step up from modelling for novelty calendars, it seemed. When Harry stormed into the shop even later than usual that morning, Merlin only needed to take one look at him to make an educated guess as to the source of his irritation. 

"For the thousandth time Harry, just put him through facial recognition and be done with it," he sighed, and resigned himself to another day of enduring his friend's near constant petulance of late. He sent off a quick message to catering to ensure an adequate supply of biscuits was brought to Harry's office at intervals throughout the course of the day.

"No thank you," said Harry curtly, and strode on towards the shuttle.

"Or we can trace him back through the calendar if you prefer," Merlin suggested as he followed, "a bit more old school."

"No, Merlin," Harry said with a little more bite as the shuttle doors closed behind them.

"It would take all of two minutes, you dramatic old sod," he said in a last ditch attempt to put an end to Harry's theatrics for the day, but no such luck.

"You have something new for me today, I believe," Harry stiffly turned to discussing work, and Merlin thankfully took the hint that he wished to say nothing further on the subject for now. Whatever his new assignment concerned, Harry rather hoped it necessitated excessive bodily violence, so he could perhaps work of some of his seeming ever-present agitation.

When pressed, Harry had grudgingly told Merlin that it was professionalism preventing him from doing a spot of digging into the boy's life, though if the flat look Merlin gave him in return was anything to go by, his assurances had been unconvincing. It sounded a great deal better than the truth at any rate. Realistically, he knew it would pass - a photograph and five minutes of small talk on the tube did not amount to serious attachment. But, rational thought aside, Harry was a romantic at heart, and looking up someone on Google was hardly the height of romance. If it came to it, he was determined do things the old fashioned way, or not at all. 

~

When he wasn't working, Harry spent most of his time glowering at Mr July cavorting about in the sand with his beachballs, and steadily working his way through his own bodyweight in ginger biscuits. He'd even taken to hopping on the tube every now and then, riding the Central Line in hopes of crossing paths with the enthralling young man again as they'd done previously. But it wasn't that kind of movie, and Harry's pride continued to prevent him from looking him up. These journeys proved to be their own special kind of torture, given the fact that Adidas had really stepped up their summer ad campaign, and virtually every station was adorned with Mr May's sumptuous rear in boldly patterned swimwear.

~

Due to a suspected assassination plot in Sweden, Harry had received a few days blessed distraction, and was feeling rather tranquil during the debrief in the dining room, having had the opportunity to blow off a little steam. Thankfully the meeting didn't last too long - Chester had something no doubt thoroughly uninteresting to take care of, and Harry was keen to get home, into the drinks cabinet and into the bath. As he strolled back out through the shop, he was already anticipating the feeling of a cool glass in his fingers and the smell of the [Johnnie Walker](http://www.harrods.com/product/king-george-v-blue-label/johnnie-walker/000000000001731356?cat1=new-food-and-wine&cat2=new-wine-spirits&cat3=new-spirits-liqueurs-whisky) Merlin had gotten him for Christmas alongside that thrice-damned calendar that he'd taken to drinking during post mission baths.

Andrew gave him a polite smile from where he was unpacking a stack of catalogues behind the desk. Every so often - both to maintain the cover of the tailor shop and for practical use - Kingsman received an array of catalogues from various clothing and accessory companies, to keep aware of current fashions and for business potential. Other than the uniform navy and red, Kingsman didn't produce their own ties for example, and bought them in. Socks and underwear as well, even things such as luggage and scents, that were all sum parts of the overall image. Modifications could be made by the tech department of course, where necessary. Harry made a note to have a browse next time he passed through, returned Andrew's smile, and made for the door. Or he would have done, if the back cover of one of the catalogues hadn't caught his eye as the other man rifled expertly through them. 

It was the back cover of the Derek Rose catalogue, which Harry was familiar with, having bought from there on occasion. Also familiar was the man they'd chosen to model their underwear range. Right there, stark against a plain white background, was Mr May, regarding the camera in exactly the same appraising way that the man had snuck a glance at Harry on the tube. A far cry from his stint in the pin-up calendar indeed... Mr May really was working his way up. Once Harry'd gotten over the surprise of seeing the now familiar face in such an unexpected and oddly work-related setting, his eye inevitably drifted down to note that - ah yes, the man was dressed in nothing more than the [silk boxer shorts](https://www.derek-rose.com/men/clothing/mens-underwear/mens-modern-fit-boxer-shorts-brindisi-4-pure-silk-ice.html) that Harry himself sometimes wore under his suits. _Of sodding course he was._ Now wasn't that food for thought; the boy essentially wearing his pants. Harry's eye zeroed in on the dark silk shorts as though if he looked hard enough, he might just be able to see right through them, before running appreciatively over the thick thighs and well-toned chest, back up to the slight curve of his lip, the quietly confident set of his face, as though he knew just how delectable he looked, and how untouchable... There was a slight chance Harry was reading too much into things. 

Bugger it. Harry was going to find out who just who this young man was before his sanity departed him altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to my product research, I am now inundated with ads for fancy men's underwear every time I open my laptop. I have also learnt that Adidas are kind enough to provide you with an arse shot as well as the front when viewing the product, but Derek Rose offers no such courtesy.  
> Distinct lack of Eggsy in this chapter - I felt he needed to be absent to get all of Harry's sulking in it's full glory. He'll be back next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely and/or hilarious comments last chapter <3 You will be pleased to know that Harry does in fact get his shit together a little more this time.  
> Even though I already have the plot sketched out, this seemed to want to be written about five different ways and it was hard to pin one in particular down... things kept getting too deep for my original plan of a dumb fic about naughty calendars. Also it's going to be more chapters than I thought why do I do this.

Mere days into the next month, Harry was already tired of looking at Mr August bending to pull a cake out of the oven in his tiny apron. But the mix of pink polka dots and shiny arse was rendered less distasteful by the fact that Harry had finally cracked (or in his words - after much deliberation, come to a well-balanced and sensible decision) and done a bit of digging. He now knew Mr May was in fact one Gary Unwin, twenty three years old (good lord) and in possession of a not insignificant criminal record. Rather than be put off, Harry was actually quite impressed with his diverse skill set; the man was more intriguing by the minute. Along with that came a smattering of other details such as his home address and next of kin that were all very well and good, but of little practical use, unless Harry wanted to resort to _actual_ stalking, and to just turn up at the poor boy's home. A touch too far, even by his standards. But it was a relief all the same, to have a name to put to the pretty face he was having an embarrassingly hard time forgetting.

~

Harry was considering going home for the day a little earlier than usual - Kingsman was going through something of a dry spell in terms of large scale threats to mankind - when a message from Merlin appeared across the bottom of his glasses:

 _Customer of interest. Come to shop NOW._

Well that hardly narrowed it down. The vague message could have alluded to anyone - an old friend, or celebrity of some kind, one of their generous benefactors perhaps. Maybe someone more sinister, somebody targeting Kingsman, or a mark who knew they were on to them and was keen to make the first strike... although they did have other protocols set in place for that. In the end, Harry decided to do as Merlin requested, just in case it was the latter that proved to be true. He sighed, already lamenting the extra hour he could have been spending at home. Mr Pickle was due a bit of a spruce up, the poor thing, Harry'd been neglecting him of late.

While he certainly didn't dawdle on his way back to the shop, he didn't exactly rush either, meaning that by the time he strolled down the stairs and onto the shopfloor, Merlin's arms were tightly folded - a sure indication of impatience - and he looked about ready to give Harry a swift kick somewhere unsavoury. 

"You took your time," Merlin growled out of the side of his mouth as Harry approached.

Since he didn't look especially worried, Harry surmised that this 'customer of interest' was no one that posed a threat, and as such felt no guilt whatsoever about saying breezily - "sorry, my hair needed seeing to. You know how it is..."

Merlin merely gave him the flat, unimpressed look that a cat might give it's owner upon being told they were due for a bath. "And just for that, you're on your own. Over there." He jerked his head over to where a young couple were giggling and nudging each other over the selection of dress shirts. He raised an eyebrow in question. Customer service was generally not Harry's forte, and frankly he had no idea why Merlin wished him to serve this couple in particular - neither looked familiar from the backs of their heads, and surely Andrew would have been a better option. But no answer was forthcoming from Merlin, who simply glared Harry down until he sighed and tried to dredge up his helpful employee face as he walked across to the couple.

"How about this one?" The young woman tapped her finger on a pale blue shirt.

The young man considered for a moment before violently shaking his head. "Nah, looks like something Charlie would wear."

"Jesus, you say that about almost everything I suggest," she sighed. "We'll never get anywhere if you don't pull your head out of your arse and start making some decisions."

"Excuse me," Harry said as he drew up behind them, already dreading the no doubt tedious process that would follow, "may I be of any help?"

"Yes, _please,"_ the woman said, straightening up to offer Harry a small smile in greeting, "we'll be here for days else."

"Oi," the man turned to her with a look of exaggerated indignation, "I ain't that bad." He turned to face Harry properly. "Alright, mate?"

 _Ah._ Now, Harry Hart was most certainly not one inclined to panic. He was too well self-disciplined, had seen too much and done too much for such things, but this was about as close to panicking as he would admit to being. Well, that certainly explained why Merlin had been so determined to get him up to the shop at least, though a little warning might have been nice. He shot a quick glance across to where the other man was humming cheerfully behind a barely concealed smirk as he pretended to do a stock take. Bastard. 

"Good afternoon," he said when he'd reined himself back in, carefully arranged his face into what was hopefully a smile, willed away the unwelcome heat creeping up his neck, "what is it you're looking for, exactly?"

"Well, I - " Gary Unwin, because that was undeniably who it was, stopped talking, his face clearing into a wide smile of recognition. "It's you!" he exclaimed, with a lot more enthusiasm than most people did upon finding themselves face to face with Harry. "Train Bloke."

"I - beg your pardon?" Harry's usually quick thinking ground to a halt in face of such an unexpected reaction.

"So _this_ is Train Bloke," the young woman said with an appraising smile as she looked Harry over, "I was wondering whether you really existed or if you were just a figment of Eggsy's wishful thinking."

Harry was still too busy trying to reconcile that a) Mr May was right there in front of him in the Kingsman shop _without_ any interference from himself, and b) that he both remembered Harry from their brief meeting on the tube _and_ appeared to be pleased to see him again, to come up with something of use to say.

"Shut up Rox," Gary hissed, aiming an elbow at her ribs which she neatly dodged, before turning sheepishly back to Harry, somewhat awkward in the aftermath of his outburst. "Yeah, I um - I don't know if you remember or not, but we bumped into each other on the tube a while back." Red-faced and shoulders squared, he looked up at Harry with an odd mix of hope and defiance, as though worried Harry had forgotten him but also ready to brush it off as nothing if he had. "I get if you don't. Not like it was a big deal or nothing, but..." He seemed to be more on the defensive after regrouping from the surprise of their meeting again - the cheerful, easy confidence of the young man he'd met on the train pushed back behind the more hard-faced and confrontational Adonis of the Adidas poster. No matter, Harry would simply have to coax him back out. 

"Of course I remember," Harry said smoothly, unwilling to draw out his discomfort. How could he not? "But I'm afraid I quite forgot my manners when we met before, and never introduced myself. Harry Hart." He held out his hand.

"I'm Eggsy," he seemed to soften slightly in relief, smile fluttering around the set of his lips as he took Harry's offered hand. "Well it's Gary really, but nobody calls me that and I never really liked it anyway, so... yeah."

The young woman snorted and rolled her eyes, both amused and unimpressed by her friend's flustered rambling. It was the same look Merlin gave Harry at least seven times a day. "Ridiculous."

"This is my mate, Rox," Gary - _Eggsy_ \- said as Harry shook her hand too, feeling oddly triumphant that she was merely a friend, not partner, "and she's meant to be helpin' me pick something decent to wear for new headshots, but she's doin' a pretty shit job of it so far."

"Well if that's how you feel," she said loftily, "then it's lucky you've got Harry to help you now then, isn't it?"

"Rox, don't - "

"I'll just leave you in his capable hands, shall I?" She shot him a sharp grin, and with a flick of her ponytail headed to the door. "See you later. Nice to meet you Harry," she waved, "and nice to know you don't just exist in the realm of Eggsy's fantasies." 

Eggsy blinked at the door as it swung shut after his friend, before saying distractedly, "looks like it's just you and me then, bruv."

"Yes." A notion which pleased Harry more than it should have. He cleared his throat to focus himself, in doing so drawing Eggsy's attention back to him. "We'd best get started then. I believe you said you require something for new headshots?"

"I did, yeah. But it ain't just that. I do a bit of modellin', right, and I need a few full body shots for my portfolio. Most of the ones from my past jobs are..." he hesitated, proud of but reluctant to share the information Harry knew he was about to give, "well, I ain't wearing an awful lot in 'em, and I could do with a few a bit more upmarket, y'know? Show potential employers I ain't all about arse."

"...I see." Harry could practically feel Merlin's amusement across the shop, hidden as it was behind years of self-restraint and a stack of ring-bound folders. He thought that perhaps now might not be the best time to confess he was actually quite familiar with said arse, as well as every other inch of skin Eggsy had bared for the camera. "In that case, might I suggest a suit?"

"I - " Eggsy frowned in thought. "That's a few steps up from what I was thinking. I was just gunna whack on a nice shirt, to be honest."

"What could be more perfect to let potential employers know you take your profession seriously, and have a wide range of looks, than the classic suit?" Harry may have had an ulterior motive - the young man would look absolutely devastating in the right suit, and Harry would very much like to be the one to put him in it. 

"I'm not sure," Eggsy bit at his lip. "Dunno if it's really me, y'know?"

Harry nodded. "I understand."

"Not that I've ever worn anything like it before..." He looked longingly at the be-suited mannequins in the window, at war with himself over it for some private reason, though it was evident he was tempted.

"In that case, let me book you in for a fitting, and see how you feel. If you decide it's really not for you, then you needn't take anything, though I guarantee I can find you something more than satisfactory," he hadn't intended to flirt with the boy per se, but it was hard to stop his voice from curling lazily around that final word, and the little flicker of pleased surprise that crossed Eggsy's face was worth it anyway. 

"It... might be a bit out of my price range." It looked like it troubled him to admit it, though he kept his chin up and met Harry's eye. "I've had a couple of good gigs lately, but - "

"It would be at a discount, naturally," Harry cut in smoothly, "for enduring my ridiculous remarks on the train. And of course, to have someone so handsome to be seen wearing one of our suits is always beneficial to us from a business perspective."

"I - " Eggsy looked like he was trying to bite back a grin, that lovely colour back up in his face. He blushed easily it seemed, a fascinating trait which Harry was rather eager to test the limits of via any method that presented itself. Any trace of the hard demeanour was gone now, and he was back to being the charming and engaging young man Harry'd bumped into on the tube. "Alright then, yeah. If it'd help you out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching the film again the other day because well why not, and looked away from the pair of them long enough to notice there's a saddle in the fitting room when Harry first takes Eggsy to HQ. Why. Why is there a saddle in the fitting room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta for the comments last chapter, as ever :)  
> I can't believe it's taken me a whole year in this fandom before I Googled 'How to take suit measurements.' A little late this week, I posted this in a massive rush before work, so I might have to come back later and straighten it out a little bit.

Harry had booked Eggsy's appointment in with himself, as he did with customers on occasion anyway if he was bored enough, which made Merlin's huffing at him for it entirely unfounded and all the more amusing. Despite looking forward to it, Harry's timekeeping had once again failed him, and he was a few minutes late meeting Eggsy in the shop, which meant he got a front row seat to the moment the young man's face shifted from nervous apprehension to relief when Harry called his name.

"Mr Unwin," he said as he drew up to the low sofa in the waiting area, "I apologise for my tardiness."

"No worries bruv," Eggsy said as he shook Harry's offered hand, though he still seemed a little tense, "it happens. Was worried you'd changed your mind there for a sec."

"Never," said Harry with a bit more sincerity than he intended, and Eggsy blinked at him in mild confusion. Harry kicked up his smile a notch in an attempt to alleviate any awkwardness, and gestured to the fitting room. "If you'd step this way, Mr Unwin."

"It's Eggsy," he said as Harry pulled up the door behind them, "call me Eggsy."

Harry turned to the mirror that lined the back wall, finding Eggsy's eyes already on him and waiting for an answer. "Then you must call me Harry." Eggsy grinned, and his posture relaxed ever so slightly.

A short time into the fitting, and Harry was beginning to wonder if it had been the best idea for him to oversee it after all. It wasn't that Eggsy was a bother to measure - he must have been used to being fussed about with in his line of work - but it was evident he'd never been measured for a suit before. Though Harry explained what he was going to do before he took each measurement, Eggsy's breath still caught in surprise when he gently looped the tape measure around his neck or ran it across his shoulders. But still, he treated Eggsy no differently to any other client. He might have wished to, but he kept his distance as much as was possible, took the measurements with minimal fuss and the normal attempts at polite chatter. But it transpired Eggsy had other topics in mind than the traffic or the weather.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Eggsy?" he wrote down the measurement for the left sleeve.

"Why the fuck is there a saddle in here?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder to the wooden stand in the corner, on which rested a rather lovely Stubben leather riding saddle. The fact that it had to be quite so nice a piece when it was never actually used on a horse grated on him, but then, it fit in with the rest of Kingsman's equipment - only the best. "We use it when fitting riding clothes," he explained, noting the measurement for Eggsy's wrist, "to check jacket length is suitable and to make sure the trousers fit correctly while the wearer's in the saddle."

"Right, _obviously,"_ said Eggsy, voice full of humour and heavy with sarcasm. "Reminds me of a shoot I did once..."

While Harry was sorely tempted to enquire after further details of said shoot, he concluded it was for the best that he refrained. "If you'd be so kind as to lift your arms, please," he said instead, and moved to take his waist measurement.

Whether it was because of the attention to detail his job required - both as tailor and agent - or because of his poorly concealed interest in Eggsy he didn't wish to consider, but Harry couldn't stop himself from cataloguing numerous little things he noticed about him as he worked. His nails were more bitten down than before, red and sore-looking, suggesting he'd been particularly anxious over something of late. The tang of Lynx was more overpowering than last time too, and he must have shaved that morning judging by the little bloody blob under his chin. It made Harry wonder if it was on his account that Eggsy had put in this extra effort, rather endearing, if it were true. Standing so close to him, it was easy to spot the faint freckles across his nose that had been brought out by all the sun they'd had lately, the mole on his throat, to feel his warm puffs of spearminty breath from the gum he must have gotten rid of before coming in.

"Sorry," said Harry as he knelt at Eggsy's feet, "it's a rather intimate process, I know."

"S'alright," Eggsy said quietly, face flushed the most lovely pink as he peered down at Harry, "it's your job."

"Quite," Harry said, lowering his gaze to take the measurement for Eggsy's inseam. In the silence as he did so, Eggsy was more on edge, and fidgety to the extent that Harry almost had to tell him to stop. He kept taking in sharp little breaths as though he was about to say something, though he never did. It could have been discomfort with the situation in general, but something told Harry it was _him,_ rather than the fitting, that was making Eggsy twitchy. Inwardly, Harry was feeling something similar. He could only hope he hadn't read the situation wrongly, as he took a breath and made himself do what he'd wished to since the very first moment he'd seen him.

"Eggsy?"

"Mmhm?"

"Would you care to have dinner with me?" Harry blurted before he could think better of it.

"Yes please." Eggsy's answer was instantaneous and full of relief, shoulders sagging and smiling shyly, as though he'd been a minute or two away from asking the very same thing.

"Good," Harry smiled briefly and got back to work taking the final few measurements. The silence was considerably less tense after that, and it wasn't long before Eggsy was nattering away again before they moved to look at fabrics.

~

"Evenin'."

"Hello, Eggsy." Surprisingly, Harry was on time to meet Eggsy for the evening. He'd have to mention his unfortunate habitual lateness at some point though, before he inevitably left Eggsy waiting as he'd done for the suit fitting, and wondering if Harry'd stood him up. "Are you ready to go?"

Eggsy grinned as he fell into step with him, close but not touching. "Lead on, guv."

They'd agreed to meet near Piccadilly Circus station - Eggsy had said he'd be working somewhere close by that day, and it would save him the hassle of going home only to rush back across town again. It seemed Eggsy's work day had been somewhat stressful, from his hasty explanation of a missing photographer and more kittens on set than they'd been expecting before cutting himself off to ask after Harry's day, but the young man had such a way of speaking, that he was mostly content just to listen anyway. They were almost at the restaurant of Harry's choosing - a nice but not overly stuffy place that he hoped Eggsy might like - when they walked past a bus stop proudly displaying Eggsy's Adidas poster. He immediately stopped talking when he noticed it, faltering in his loping walk and his previously bright smile fixed as he stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. Noticing Eggsy's sudden discomfort and guessing at it's cause, Harry decided to put a stop to it - he wouldn't have him worrying needlessly on his account. Considering the way in which Harry had first encountered him, it would have been somewhat hypocritical. 

"I recognised you, you know," he said, nodding to the garish ad showcasing Eggsy's swimsuit-clad arse, "when I first saw that poster." It eased his discomfort a little, about not having mentioned his hoarding of the Mr May photograph, by admitting that he had at least been thinking about Eggsy after they'd met. Besides, if this thing with him didn't come to anything, he'd rather not have shared that embarrassing little titbit for nothing.

"You didn't," Eggsy snorted in disbelief, but looked shyly pleased all the same. "Just from them two minutes on the train?"

"I have a good memory," Harry said vaguely, "though in this case I believe it might just have been that you were harder to forget than most." Alright, perhaps he was laying it a little thick, but it was the truth, to some extent. "And... I may have taken the tube once or twice afterwards, in the hopes of catching you again."

 _"Fuck off_ did you," Eggsy grinned at him, shaking his head at Harry's odd behaviour. "I'll be honest bruv, it was a bit of a one off for me too. I was visitin' a mate."

"Ah." 

Eggsy laughed again, lip between his teeth in an attempt to bite his wide smile back under control. "Fuck, you're cute."

For a moment, Harry was genuinely unsure how to reply to that, so settled on the truth. "I don't think anyone has ever referred to me as such before."

"Yeah well, get used to it."

~

Dinner went about as well as Harry could have hoped, considering he hadn't been on an honest to God date for years. After an hour or so of talking about and between the food and drinks, he concluded that one of the first observations he'd made about Eggsy, from the Mr May picture alone, was the most apt: _sweet and just a tiny bit naughty._ He barely ever turned the conversation to himself, instead asking numerous things about Harry - not that he could give them all honest answers when it came to his profession - and seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Harry inquired about his family, to which he eagerly began waxing lyrical about his mum and little stepsister, his friends from work and from home. He certainly had no filter when he spoke, his language was colourful and it appeared he could shape some sort of innuendo out of almost anything. A man after Harry's own heart in that regard, though in his case it was for the sole purpose of irritating Merlin.  
During dessert, Eggsy's fingers seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time in his mouth, as he licked sauce from their tips, or wiped away a crumb from the corner of his lips. Harry honestly wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose, or if he was just a messy eater and Harry's attention was easily drawn to his mouth. Either way, it was thoroughly distracting. As was the way Eggsy would nudge along his calf every so often with the toe of his shoe. It only occurred to him, while they were waiting on their coffee, that he hadn't asked Eggsy much about his work. He apologised as soon as he noticed, saying he hoped Eggsy didn't mistake it for lack of interest.

"Nah, it's alright," Eggsy said with a small smile, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear about it neither. I've been on dates before, birds and blokes mind, who got a bit funny about it."

"Then they don't deserve you," Harry said simply. "It... may interest you to know that we receive the Derek Rose catalogue at Kingsman every now and then."

Eggsy's forehead scrunched up, not sure what Harry was getting at. "I don't - _oh._ Yeah." Once again he pinked up a little, though whether it was because Harry had seen said catalogue or because of the amount of skin Eggsy bared for his living, he was unsure. The former, he assumed, from the shy smile Eggsy shot him when he spoke again. "I do jobs like that - y'know, the Adidas thing and the fancy-arse underwear," he cut off here, looking slightly scandalised, "do you even know how much that shit costs, by the way?"

"Intimately." 

"Right - Yeah. _'Course_ you do." Eggsy shifted in his seat, colouring further still, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I take stuff like that because the money's so good, and I'm supporting mum and Dais at the mo, so I gotta take what I can, yeah?"

"Of course," Harry said, "it's very admirable that you take care of them so. Unfortunately, I know a great many who wouldn't bother."

"Thing is, I - you remember when I said I wasn't, err, wearin' much in my past work? It's not cos I do a lot of swimwear and pants or whatever, but I mainly do calendars. Like pin-ups, gimmicky things, y'know? Cheesy as hell, but I prefer them."

"Why's that?" said Harry, thinking of the draw in his office with the Mr May photograph stashed between unfinished reports and post-its from Merlin reminding him to hand in said reports on time when Harry gleefully ignored the e-mails.

He shrugged. "They're more fun. Lighthearted. It's about making people laugh rather than getting them to buy stuff. Well, I guess it gets them to buy the calendar, but you know what I mean. It's how I started out, the first modelling job I had was a fireman for a 'Hunk of the Day' calendar. I've got a shoot for another one lined up in a couple of weeks. I - I hope that doesn't weird you out or nothing...?" Eggsy trailed off, perhaps uncertain after knowing Harry such a short time whether he'd approve of the level of nudity his main source of income involved.

"Of course not," Harry said firmly, "and anyone who it does offend needs a reality check, in my opinion. It's unconventional perhaps, but wanting to make people smile is far from a crime, Eggsy. And I applaud you for it, not everyone is brave enough to put themselves out there in such a way." 

Eggsy positively lit up at Harry's response "You think so?"

"Of course."

"Did you want to - " he pursed his lips in indecision, "did you want to see a couple of my faves?"

"If you want to show me my dear, I'd love to."

"Alright then," Eggsy beamed and slid his phone from his pocket, pulling up a succession of pictures from his past jobs. Sure enough, there was 'Dennis: The Firefighter with a soft side,' according to the caption, soot-smeared and shirtless, thick braces over his shoulders and yellow helmet under his arm. Next came Eggsy dressed as an admittedly loose interpretation of a sailor, complete with a little white hat and an orange and white life ring around his middle. Then came his appearance in a book somewhat obviously tilted ['Hot Guys with Baby Animals,'](http://www.hotguysandbabyanimals.com/) in which Eggsy peered demurely up at the camera while cradling a tiny pug puppy to his chest - which apparently he'd later adopted and taken home with him. And then inevitably there was an appearance by Mr May, which nearly made Harry choke on the little biscuit that came on the side of his coffee.

"You like that one?" Eggsy said with a smirk as he put his phone away. "I'll remember that."

They shared a taxi home in the end. Not a Kingsman one - purely because Harry knew Merlin would no doubt watch the camera feed from the cab as soon as he found out who was in it, if only to make snide comments about it later. They dropped off Eggsy first, to the building where he shared a flat with Roxy, and Harry insisted on walking him to the door.  
He had already decided, on a sort of chivalrous whim a little at odds with several other aspects of his character, that if the occasion should arise, he would let Eggsy be the one to take the next step. Which was why he was pleasantly surprised, as he stood on Eggsy's doorstep, ready to bid him goodnight and gracefully take his leave, that Eggsy took hold of the collar on his coat and pulled him down for a kiss. It was just a press of lips, a little cold from the evening air, tasting of coffee and the gum Eggsy'd been chewing in the taxi. 

"I can't believe you was going to cut and run without givin' me a kiss goodnight," Eggsy said, smiling against Harry's lips. "Hardly very gentlemanly."

"On the contrary," Harry said, already leaning forward to follow Eggsy's mouth with his own, "I didn't want to presume."

Eggsy laughed softly, bit gently at Harry's lower lip, his cold nose pressing on Harry's cheek. "Mate, I been waiting to snog you since the moment I stomped on your foot at Tottenham Court Road."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You - did you do it on purpose?"

Eggsy laughed and pulled him in for another kiss. "Might've done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I had to mention the saddle. After minimal research, it looks like checking the fit of riding clothes is the most likely purpose, which I guess makes sense in a posh tailory kind of way. It just caught me off guard, ok.  
> Also I love how even though they (for some ungodly reason) airbrushed out Taron's mole, everyone just collectively went nope, I want to write about that shit, and put it back into fics. It's brilliant. I am a firm advocate of the mole.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on track after a break last week to get a different fic posted. This chapter is disgustingly happy, I hope you're all ready for a montage.

The next couple of weeks were pleasant to such an extent that Harry couldn't even bring himself to be irritated by Mr September, resplendent as he was in his minuscule denim shorts and waving his axe about with very little regard for health and safety as he chopped wood.

The second date he shared with Eggsy was very similar to the first. They met, had dinner, Harry found himself once again utterly charmed, and was bid goodnight with a kiss on Eggsy's doorstep. Though this time he thought that Eggsy clung to his shoulder just a little bit harder, breathed a little faster, the press of his lips more hungry than before, turning away from Harry to go inside with a shade more reluctance. Had Merlin been there, he would have told him it was all wishful thinking and to stop being so big-headed, but he wasn't, so sod it all Harry was going to let himself enjoy the moment.

One cold but bright afternoon they met up for coffee - Harry was due to leave on a three day long trip that evening - and sat together at one of the spindly tables outside a cafe. Eggsy's wriggly little pug that Harry was instantly fond of, though he did make him miss Mr Pickle terribly, snuffled around hopefully at their feet as Eggsy chattered nonsense to him and drank an enormous hot chocolate topped off with cream and marshmallows. It made Harry feel rather sick just looking at the thing. He nursed his own coffee, and re-realised for the eighty seventh time how besotted he was with the boy. When they kissed goodbye at the tube station, he could taste the chocolate on Eggsy's tongue. 

The day Harry came back, they'd gotten Thai food and talked about old musicals, and Eggsy had kissed him hello as well as goodbye. He had plans with his mother and sister the following evening, so the two of them spent an afternoon in the cinema instead, which felt thoroughly decadent to Harry yet appeared a familiar pastime to Eggsy. If asked later on, Harry would have said he enjoyed the film, though it was less for the plot or cinematography, and more for the fact that a third of the way in, Eggsy's hand crept across the seats to link their fingers together atop the faux red velvet.

~

As delightful as the time they'd spent together up to that point had been, it occurred to Harry that it might have been nice if it was just the two of them the next time around - no background noise of other people enjoying their food, no waitresses, no taxi driver - just Eggsy and himself. So he'd invited him over to his home for dinner one evening with the intention of cooking, until he remembered that he was actually quite shockingly bad at it, floundered for all of two minutes, and decided to go the route of the M&S dine in for ten pounds dinner instead. He also rather hoped, though he hadn't yet mentioned it to Eggsy, that he might like to stay the night. But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

At five to seven (Eggsy's timekeeping turned out to be a vast deal more efficient than Harry's, thank God) the doorbell rang. Harry abandoned his last minute fussing over the table settings in the dining room, and went to answer it. His stomach felt pleasantly fluttery and off-kilter, the same way it had when he was fourteen and his classmate Rupert had snuck a kiss from him in the hall before they were ushered off to their separate dormitories for the night. But that was decades ago, this was right now. And right now, Eggsy was waiting on the doorstep, his usual dimpled smile made slightly smaller with nerves, and looking just as lovely as Harry had ever seen him, poured into a pair of dark, well-fitted jeans and a smart shirt. 

"Good evening," Harry couldn't help but smile a little himself, as he stepped neatly to the side to hold the door open for him. "Come in."

"Alright Harry?" Eggsy visibly relaxed as he entered the hallway, tension dropping from his shoulders with a relieved little huff. It was unexpected and invariably touching, that someone so brash and bright and confident as he was in his work, Eggsy had these occasional moments of self-doubt, as though he wasn't good enough or that Harry might suddenly disappear. A worry Harry was determined to relieve him of, if he could.

"You look radiant, darling," Harry said as he closed the door, turning to sweep Eggsy into his arms and pressing a firm, deliberate kiss to his lips, slightly parted and still cold from the evening air.

"Mmm," Eggsy hummed as he caught up with himself and kissed Harry back, clever hand sneaking down to pinch Harry's bum.

Distracted as he was by Eggsy's tongue on his lower lip, Harry only just managed to refrain from starting in surprise, Eggsy's hand staying splayed over his arse. "Naughty," he pulled back a little to mumble affectionately into Eggsy's lips. 

"And proud," Eggsy said with a self-satisfied curl of his mouth, cold tip of his nose rubbing against Harry's.

"Rightfully so." 

~

"This is really fucking good Harry," Eggsy said as he chased what was left of the meal around the plate. 

"Thank you," Harry said, sipping at his wine, "the compliment is thoroughly appreciated. Though as I said, most of the credit goes to Marks and Spencer."

"Yeah well, they didn't put it in the oven and give it to me on fancy plates, did they," Eggsy raised his eyebrow, sucking a spot of gravy off of his thumb.

"True."

"Anyways, it's still better than anything I could put together," Eggsy said with a grimace as he reached for his wine glass, "can barely boil water, me. Although," he licked his lips, chasing a drop of red wine at the corner of his mouth, "I am a fucking pro at taking things out of the freezer and putting them in the oven. No one can top my chicken nuggets yeah? Not even McDonald's."

"A bold claim," Harry said, smothering his amusement into a napkin. "I'm more of a microwave man in all honesty, if left to fend for myself."

"I won't judge mate," Eggsy raised a hand in mock solemnity, "every real chef's got their own preferred methods, yeah?"

Harry held back an ungentlemanly sort of laughter and went to fetch the pudding.

~

Dinner over with, the plates washed and put away and Eggsy poking around in Harry's DVD collection, and he still hadn't managed to string together the right words to ask him to spend the night. Nonetheless Eggsy seemed in no rush to get home, perfectly at ease padding about the sitting room, examining the shelves of books and films, running a fingertip along the polished edge of the drinks cabinet, studying the small Stubbs painting of a hound above the mantle. 

"You've got a fuckin' eclectic taste in home furnishings bruv, that's for sure," he said, eyeing the taxidermy pheasant with concern.

"That's one of the nicer ways I've heard it expressed. 'Ungodly eyesore even my grandmother would be ashamed of' and 'dregs of a post-apocalyptic jumble sale' being Merlin's favourites."

"Merlin?" Eggsy glanced over at him in question.

"A colleague," Harry said, cursing his slip of mentioning him by name, it was hardly a common one and somewhat memorable, tending to lead to questions later on, "he was there the day that you and Roxanne first called in to the shop."

"Oh yeah," Eggsy nodded and went back to browsing the DVDs, "bald bloke with the clipboard. You wanna watch a film?"

The fact that he'd not enquired after Merlin's unusual name gave Harry pause, but then going by 'Eggsy,' he probably got enough questioning to not bother other people about their unorthodox names. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

Half an hour later they were part way through My Fair Lady, Harry sitting in one corner of the sofa and Eggsy curled against his side, half draped in the blanket Harry kept there for nights he couldn't quite find the strength to go upstairs to bed. They's started off further apart, but within the first ten minutes Eggsy had crept in closer, warm body along the length of Harry's, head on his shoulder as he hummed along to the songs. He smelt again of minty chewing gum, although he never seemed to actually be chewing the stuff, along with hair gel and the wine from dinner. Though he'd eased off on the Lynx, thankfully. Three quarters of the way through the film, Harry was stretched out along the sofa with Eggsy pressed close all down his side, still humming along, and Harry could feel the rumble of it against his chest if he stayed still enough.  
By the time the film was almost over, Eggsy was decidedly more fidgety, turning his attention away from the screen to nose at Harry's neck, breath hot on his jaw and down the collar of his shirt. Harry stilled, waiting to see what he'd do next. His patience was rewarded when Eggsy pulled himself up to press a single, soft kiss to Harry's lips before backing off again, blinking in question, eyes made bright from the flickering screen in the otherwise dark sitting room. The mood shifted palpably, film forgotten, bodies tense and breath quick. The moment Harry'd been hoping would present itself had done so. 

"Eggsy," even to his own ears, his voice sounded rough, loud against the thick air of the room and the low murmuring from the film. He swallowed. "Eggsy, would you like to stay the night?"

"Fuck yes," Eggsy grinned at him, all sharp light and shadow from the glare of the television, his elbow in Harry's stomach, "I was wonderin' when you was gunna ask." He dove forward to kiss him again, only to frown when Harry dodged him and made to stand up. "Oi, where exactly d'you think you're going?"

"Upstairs," Harry said firmly. "We're not doing this on the sofa." It would utterly knacker his back for one thing, but Eggsy didn't need to know that.

"Fine, fine," Eggsy gave a long suffering sigh. "C'mon then," he jumped up, held his hand out to Harry, glint of challenge in his eye, "take me to bed."

Harry raised an eyebrow and let Eggsy pull him up off the sofa, before drawing him roughly forward into a kiss, open-mouthed and filthy, but brief, pulling away before Eggsy could react. "It would be my pleasure."

What came after was a dizzying rush of lust that Harry hadn't felt for longer than he wished to recall: a breathless, giddy trip up the stairs, smiling into each other's kisses, tugging at buttons and the hard press of fingertips. He hadn't been so caught up in the throes of passion as to abandon a shirt on the staircase since the eighties. Harry steered them vaguely in the direction of his bedroom - pausing in an alcove on the landing to suck lightly on Eggsy's collarbone before he groaned and shoved him off to kiss him again - where they tumbled backwards with a huff on to the mattress.  
Eggsy snogged him senseless for a moment - a very apt description indeed, since Harry couldn't figure out which way was up with Eggsy licking into his mouth - before pushing himself back off the bed to peel off his jeans, giving Harry the overdone pouts and poses and bedroom eyes from his calendars as he did so, before dissolving into laughter as he pinged the elastic waistband of his underwear. Decidedly not silk ones this time, but emblazoned with super hero emblems Harry recognised but couldn't make out properly. But he grew more serious soon after, looking down to where Harry waited for him on the bed, powerless to do anything much but raptly watch Eggsy's every move.  
Objectively, Harry was well aware Eggsy was good looking, had seen enough pictures of him winking and biting his lip and suggestively leaning over, touched up and air brushed and enhanced to perfection. But like this, the young man was a work of fucking art, from his tousled hair to pinked up face and lips kissed and bitten to tenderness. The column of his throat, bobbing as he swallowed, that fascinating little mole dark on his skin. His smooth and sculpted chest, always kept camera-ready, now flushed darker, rising and falling deep and quick. _This_ was the man Harry had bumped into on the train, not the one he had a picture of in his office drawer, and he knew with utmost certainty which one it was he preferred. His appraisal was cut short however, when Eggsy clambered back on to the bed breathing Harry's air and kissing his neck and whispering that the dead dog in the loo was really fucking weird and maybe he needed some help.

One of the last things Harry remembered thinking before Eggsy stuck his hand into his trousers was that he'd really quite like to keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone tells me M&S isn't fancy enough for Harry, you are mistaken. M&S is the epitome of class and high quality.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's quite little and a bit filler-y, but it didn't really fit in with the parts either side, so...

Harry had always been fond of October. Mostly due to the more moderate weather - cool enough that his suits no longer felt over-hot and constricting as they did on occasion in the warmer months - crisp, autumnal and calm, before November reared it's ugly head and people suddenly started to panic about Christmas. He did not however, feel the same level of affection for Mr October, rolling around amid fallen leaves with an absurdly small pumpkin hiding his modesty. 

So Harry ignored him and let his thoughts drift back to Eggsy instead. He'd stayed at Harry's house again the night before, meaning that he was even later for work than usual by the time they'd disentangled themselves from each other in the hallway, straightened ties and dusted off stray toast crumbs, and headed off to start their separate days. Harry was by nature somewhat possessive, and the thought of how wonderful it would be to simply lock the door and keep himself and Eggsy holed up within, take all day just to enjoy him and sod the rest of the world, lurked at the back of his mind as he shut the front door. But that was highly impractical, even if the only objection from either party would be from Eggsy on the behalf of his poor neglected pug. 

His irrational desire to have Eggsy all to himself was partially satisfied by the the fact that the nights he slept at Harry's were beginning to outnumber the ones that he didn't. The two of them never spent the night at Eggsy's flat - Roxanne was often at home, and neither of them much fancied facing her over the breakfast table after rounds of enthusiastic and probably quite noisy sex the night before in the room next to hers. Eggsy was rather vocal, to Harry's delight. And as gratifying as that was all by itself, Harry took pleasure in discovering all manner of little quirks and habits that Eggsy possessed. For example, as a result of sleeping next to each other so frequently, Harry had learnt that Eggsy slept very lightly and very still, limbs close to his body and mostly unmoving. According to him it was a habit left over from his childhood, when he and his mother both drew comfort from sharing a bed on occasion after his father died, and he was careful not to disturb the few hours sleep she could manage. In turn, Eggsy had learnt that Harry was a terrible sprawler, which he'd always taken great pains to hide and was rather mortifying. Thankfully Eggsy pronounced it 'cute' rather than both irritating and exhausting, as partners had done in the past.

~

"Good afternoon, Lancelot."

"Galahad," James sauntered up to him with a wink, twirling his rainmaker about with the sort of swaggering abandon the poor thing couldn't have possibly done anything to deserve. 

"Anything to report?" Harry said quietly, though they were standing close together and the noisy comings and goings of other people walking up and down the busy road easily covered their conversation. "Something of use this time, preferably."

"You wound me," James sniffed and clutched at his chest, "when have I ever not completed the task given to me to utmost perfection?"

Harry gave him a flat look, unimpressed. "I'll do you a kindness and not answer that."

"Suit yourself old boy," James said as he adjusted his cuff, eyes following a curvy blonde as she made her way into an Ann Summer's, "besides, I'm almost certain Merlin has a list, so there's really no need."

"He does, I've seen it," Harry glanced at his watch. "Look, do you have anything for me or not? Time is rather of the essence."

"Hold your horses dear chap, I'm getting there," James said with his usual rather blasé lack of urgency. "My sources tell me our man will be picked by his driver precisely ten minutes from now, just around the corner by that dreadfully gaudy jewellers." Harry thought that was somewhat hypocritical, considering James wouldn't know gaudy if it waved it's diamante covered arse in his face. "So that should give you a small window of opportunity to nab him as he makes his way out of the club along the back road to get to his car."

"Wonderful."

"Good luck, Galahad," James grinned conspiratorially at him. Out of all the agents, he was perhaps the one who enjoyed the theatricality of the code names the most. Harry was a close second. "Show him what's what, eh?" 

"I don't require luck, Lancelot," Harry nodded goodbye and made to walk away. He'd only taken a step when James smacked him firmly on the bum, causing Harry to jump and one or two passersby to snigger into their takeaway coffee cups. It was a habit James had gotten into in place of saying goodbye, much to the exasperation of his husband and the eternal annoyance of everybody else.

"And say hello to your boy toy for me."

"Bugger off," Harry sniffed and strode away, dignity bruised, resisting the urge to rub his poor arse cheek and cursing the name of Lancelot.

~

Eleven minutes later, and things had not gone exactly as Harry had hoped. The mark he'd needed James' info on was unconscious at his feet, with Harry waiting impatiently for Kingsman to send someone to get the man back to the shop for further questioning. Despite Harry asking ever so politely, he hadn't been keen to divulge the information he required. He'd just removed his glasses to buff away a spot of blood on the lens when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was almost certainly Eggsy, since he rarely bothered with texting anyone else - most of his other contacts were work based and reached him through the glasses or in person while at the office. He fished his phone out of his jacket to see he was correct: one new message from Eggsy.

 _Hey babe, I'm gunna have to cancel on u tonight. See u next week yeh? xx_

Harry blinked at the screen for a moment, not quite sure how to reply. Eggsy was quite within his rights to cancel on him, of course he was, and they were used to postponing or shuffling things around if both of their work schedules were being particularly unsociable. But it was odd for him to not give Harry a reason. Normally he'd say outright if it was work, or his mum needed him or what have you. He was tempted to enquire as to why Eggsy had to give that evening a miss, naturally, but in the end decided to respect his privacy, and sent back a quick affirmative. The number of kisses the message ended with was also glaringly less than usual, but Harry was determined to not feel stung by it. All the same, his disappointment was unexpectedly keen as the plain black Kingsman van rounded the corner, but he pushed it down, and instead began pulling together his excuses for why things had gotten quite so out of hand with the mark ready for when Merlin would undoubtedly ask him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you were curious as to why Eggsy had to cancel - here we go. This all got a bit more feelings-y than I expected woops.

The two of them met for lunch as agreed the following week. Eggsy had a shoot across town in the afternoon, so they didn't have an awful lot of time on their hands, but damned if Harry was going to postpone after already putting off their last date. They'd barely spoken in the interim after Eggsy had cancelled on him, meaning Harry wasn't overly sure what to expect from him today: had there been some sort of family emergency, had he changed his mind about them seeing each other, was Harry overreacting and he'd simply had to work after all? He was of course looking forward to seeing Eggsy, as he ever was, but he was a little apprehensive all the same as he walked to the cafe, grip tight on his rainmaker, the sky darkening and thick with cloud. 

Eggsy was already waiting for him outside, face blank and hands shoved deep into his pockets, scuffing the toe of his trainer on the pavement and completely at odds with the bright and cheery crowd in the cafe behind him. He looked up when he noticed Harry approaching, usually pleasant face twitching in obvious discomfort before smoothing back into sullen blankness. Not overly promising, compared to the brilliant grin or lascivious wink Eggsy usually greeted him with. Harry decided to forgo kissing him hello - they'd quickly discovered neither of them were adverse to public displays of affection, but with Eggsy looking so uncharacteristically grim and Harry still at a loss as to what had made him so, it seemed likely to be unwelcome. 

"Eggsy," he said carefully, attempting to appear as though he wasn't desperate to gather him up close and ask what was wrong and kiss his forehead and rub his back until that awful stoniness was gone from his lovely face.

"Hey, Harry," the corner of Eggsy's mouth ticked up in a tight little grimace, posture guarded and defensive, the hard-faced beauty of the Adidas ad once again.

"You seem out of sorts," Harry said, never one to beat around the bush, and not about to start when Eggsy was so clearly unhappy and the distance between them was yawning and painful.

Eggsy huffed a breath of unhappy laughter. _"I seem out of -_ of course I fucking am." He shook his head and his shoulders drooped in resignation. It made him softer, closer to the enchanting young man Harry had bumped into on the train and fallen for head over heels, though still sad and agitated. "C'mon Harry, you and me have got a have a little chat, yeah? And we ain't having it in the caff were everyone and their mum are going to be listenin' in."

"Alright," Harry agreed and followed Eggsy's lead across the road to the small public garden opposite the cafe, blessedly empty due to the chilly and rapidly darkening afternoon. Once they were alone, Eggsy chewing on his lower lip and eyes fixed on the floor as they walked across the grass, Harry saw no point in keeping up the facade - he was worried about Eggsy, and he wasn't inclined to draw out the discomfort for either of them for God's sake. "Eggsy, what is it that's troubling you? I've been unable to stop dwelling on it ever since you cancelled on me last week, and if I've done something to upset you - "

 _"'Done something to upset me?'"_ Eggsy repeated incredulously, halting in his determined striding across the grass to round on Harry. He smelt of his usual excess of Lynx, spearmint chewing gum, and the hot dirty air of the tube. "Jesus fuck, you're really going to stand there and - of course you fucking are, _Christ._ I don't know what else I expected."

"Eggsy, I hate to be blunt, but if you just tell me what it is - "

 _"I saw you Harry,"_ Eggsy spat, pinked up with anger and the frosty air, "that day I texted you to cancel."

Harry paused, thinking carefully on his next words, lest he dig himself a bigger hole than he already had. "You saw me what, exactly?"

"Fucking hell," Eggsy muttered before visibly steeling himself, squaring his shoulders and tightly crossing his arms. "Look, first of all I saw you gettin' all cosy with that bloke - I should've known you'd be happy with some posh bloke that's actually good enough for you and not some chavvy tart who skips around in his pants for a living. You could have just told me y'know."

"Eggsy, I really must - "

"But that ain't even the problem," Eggsy cut him off with an impatient wave of his hands before Harry could set him straight, "I just care about you a bit more than I - are you a copper?"

"I beg your pardon?" Harry said, nursing metaphorical whiplash from Eggsy's sudden change of conversational direction, and very curious about the end of the sentence he'd abandoned. 

"I saw you go fucking batshit on that bloke in town. I was on the way to meet Rox when I saw that other bloke fucking grab your arse," his face soured again at the thought.

"He isn't - " Harry tried again.

"I was gunna pop over the road and give you a fucking piece of my mind when you rushed off down that side road all shifty like and I wondered what the fuck you were up to," he shrugged, "so I thought I'd hang about and see for myself. Old habits and all."

"...Ah."

"Yeah that's right 'ah,'" Eggsy raised his eyebrow with a look of disdain Merlin would have envied. "You roughed him up big time until the poor sod was unconscious and bleeding out in the fucking street. What the fuck, Harry?"

"He wasn't bleeding out," Harry sniffed, "twas but a scratch."

"Don't you try and Shakespeare your way out of this you git. You fuckin' stabbed him."

"He'll live." Until Kingsman got what they wanted out of him at least.

"Hardly the fucking point. Look, just - tell me what's going on, yeah? All of it. If there's one thing I can't fucking stand Harry, it's liars. You should know that," he finished quietly. As he waited for Harry's response, he looked so hunched in on himself, tired and thoroughly fed up, and Harry felt an utter tosser for being the one to make him so. He was meant to support him for fuck's sake, make him happy, feel loved, and all those other things that sounded like they came from the back cover of a couples self-help book. It was that paired with Eggsy's accusation - _liar_ \- that made Harry's decision for him. There was a fair bit of concealing the truth as well as bare-faced falsity that came with being a Kingsman and Harry had long since made his peace with it, but this was different. This wasn't pretending to be a bored billionaire keen to invest in armaments, or feigning lust in order to swipe something from the hotel room of a foreign dignitary. He would come clean, Eggsy deserved that much. And if it all went to shit, there was always the amnesia darts. Or that was what he told himself, though he knew full well he wouldn't be able to do it in reality.

"Come with me," he said, decision made, and turned to make his way across town towards the shop on Savile Row.

"What the fuck," came the outraged cry from behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you the answers to your questions," Harry said without turning. "Please keep up."

"Harry, I've got to be at work in - oh, fuck it."

"He's a colleague of mine," Harry said when Eggsy fell into step beside him, breathing fast after jogging to catch up, "regrettably."

"Who is?"

"The man you saw me with. Happily married, as it happens. A bit of a tit perhaps, with an odd sense of humour and strange ways of expressing his fondness for his friends. There's never been anything between us of a romantic nature," Harry couldn't stop himself wincing at the thought. "Though in the spirit of full disclosure, he did kiss me once, and on his wedding day of all things. He was completely off his face and mistook me for his new husband, the daft sod."

"...Alright."

Harry didn't say anything more as they continued the walk to the shop. It started to rain at some point and he opened out his umbrella, Eggsy wordlessly shuffling closer to get under it's cover, their arms brushing but neither taking the other's hand. His silence was partly to let Eggsy have a minute to think and to get his head around James, and partly to give himself the chance to plan how on earth he was going to explain what he really did for a living. It wasn't against the rules to tell loved ones about Kingsman per se, just not a thing to be done lightly or without serious consideration of the risks - as well as the veritable mountain of paperwork. And Eggsy was more than worth confessing to - a majority of Kingsman employees had done so to their long-term spouses - Harry just hoped he wasn't doing so too prematurely. 

The shop itself Eggsy had seen before of course, and though Harry could probably convince him of the truth with a demonstration of one or two particular items from fitting room three, the whole thing would come off as a little bit more believable and a lot more impressive if he took him straight to HQ. The fact that fitting room one was effectively a lift down to the shuttle would hopefully be a good start to making his case. 

"I'm not just a tailor," he said as Eggsy stepped into the fitting room and shut the door behind them.

"Well yeah, I could've told you that," Eggsy said sharply, though he was no longer frowning and his ire seemed to be giving way to curiosity, now Harry was giving him some answers.

"I should have given you more credit," Harry acknowledged. "And I hope that you can forgive me, once I've told you everything."

"We'll see," Eggsy folded his arms and tilted his chin up expectantly, "go on then."

"The tailor shop is functional, as you well know," Harry moved towards the mirror, giving Eggsy's reflection a small smile as he alluded to the first time he'd brought Eggsy into that very room to take his measurements, "but it also provides a front. Kingsman is at it's heart an intelligence agency. Non-government of course, and operating at the highest level of discretion."

"So you're a spy," said Eggsy flatly. 

"That's the long and short of it, I suppose," said Harry. "The suit is the modern gentleman's armour. And the Kingsman agents, it's new knights." He pressed his palm to the mirror, activating the lift and watching Eggsy's eyes widen in surprise as they began to move.

~

"Hang on a sec," Eggsy interrupted some time later, after he'd marvelled at the shuttle and they were making their way through the halls of the manor, "if this is all true and you've had years of practice at this shit, then how the fuck didn't you notice me sneaking around and watching you fuck up the bad guy? You really sure you're a spy?"

"I - " a very good question, actually. "I'm afraid my pride won't allow me to answer that," he said eventually, "though I'm beginning to suspect I have a bit of a blind spot where you're concerned, dear boy."

Eggsy grinned, his hand sneaking down to slip his fingers between Harry's as the latter continued to explain what he did for a living, pausing and every now and then when Eggsy butted in with a question or to drag him across the hall to look at a particular painting or what have you. He was taking it surprisingly well, actually, and something that had been previously tense and aching in Harry's chest loosened with the hope that it might all turn out alright.  
Things only went a little bit sideways when they stepped into Harry's office, and he remembered that a certain calendar was still pinned in pride of place above his desk. He was just considering the best way to attempt to swipe it down off the wall before Eggsy saw it, when - 

"Nice calendar," he turned to smirk at Harry over his shoulder before looking at it again, face creasing into a thoughtful frown. "Wait a - _hang on,_ I was in that one!"

"Yes," Harry tried to contain his guilty wince, wondering just how many more things he was going to end up disclosing that afternoon. "I, err, I did recognise you, actually. When I saw you on the train." 

"You knew me from the calendar before we even met?" Eggsy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Merlin gave it to me as a joke and... well, the whole thing hasn't turned out quite so amusing after all," he finished lamely.

"Is that right..." Eggsy trailed off, eyes fixed on Mr November.

"I should have told you sooner."

Eggsy snorted and shook his head. "You could've just said, y'know. It's hardly a fucking secret, more people than I wanna think about have probably had a picture of me in all my squishy-arsed glory pinned to their walls." 

"I couldn't figure out how to say it without coming across as..." Sleazy? Creepy? A stalker? "odd."

"Harry, babes, I've known you was odd since day one." His smug little smile turned more feral, eyes lidded and curl of his mouth sharp as he backed Harry towards the desk, looping his arms around his neck and draping himself lazily along the length of his body. Harry found himself cornered, something he didn't normally care for in his line of work, but in his current circumstances it was rather pleasing. "At least now I know why you got all red in the face when I showed you Mr May on my phone, you dirty bugger," he nosed along Harry's neck, breath damp and hot, a slight scrape of teeth at his throat. "Did you think of me, sitting at this desk all alone all day and hard as fuck?"

Harry was vaguely surprised that Eggsy's reaction to his clandestine viewing of one of his pictures and then proceeding to not mention it despite their seeing each other for several months was so positive. But each to their own, and it was difficult to concentrate with Eggsy's teeth on his earlobe and hand down the back of his trousers. He would have to talk to him about it properly at some point of course, but at that particular moment, it appeared his dear boy wanted something from him other than a sensible chat about feelings, and Harry was in no mind to deny him.

They spent so long snogging against Harry's desk under the watchful eye of Mr November faffing around with his badminton racket and shuttlecocks, that Eggsy was decidedly late for his photo shoot, and the poor woman who habitually brought in Harry's afternoon cup of tea got rather an eyeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chavvy tart is something my dad used to call my brother when he was bitching at him for wearing his jeans too low... on reflection it's kind of weird I used it in this context. Also my dad's name is Colin, which is always problematic.
> 
> Rating upped to an M in preparation for the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little late, I've been busy af at work all week and have a cracking cold, just to make things that bit more interesting.

Harry wasn't sure whether it was because he was getting old or whether it was purely a matter of taste, but television adverts seemed to be making less and less sense to him these days. The advert on the screen at that particular moment, for example: a voluptuous woman sprawled across a chaise longue in a red party dress - it may or may not have been a Kardashian, it really wasn't Harry's area of expertise - with half dozen scantily clad men surrounding her as she waxed lyrical about the pot of yoghurt in her hand.  
It just so happened that one of said men wearing nothing but little red briefs, a Santa hat and a silver bell around his neck was Eggsy. He'd had considerably more offers of work after the success of the Adidas ad campaign that summer, and though he turned down a fair few, apparently this one had tickled him enough for him to say yes. Honestly, Harry found it hard to focus on the novelty seasonal yoghurt flavour (it was one of those ones with the little triangle full of crispy bits or what have you in the corner that Harry didn't particularly care for, but was considering stocking the fridge with purely for the exasperated look on Eggsy's face every time he opened it) when Eggsy's groin was two feet away from said yoghurt as the woman licked at the spoon.  
The whole thing was ridiculous and a perfect example of the modern commercial Christmas with a dash of sex thrown in because it always sells, despite the season, and yet Harry still found himself wondering if Eggsy had brought the little neck bell home with him after filming the ad some weeks back. He found it oddly appealing. And, ridiculous or not, Harry couldn't help but like the ad on some level - it was the exact sort of light-hearted and tongue-in-cheek job that Eggsy preferred and made him happy, and for that, Harry had to give it it's due. 

~

"What about this one then?" 

"Mm, I like it, but it looks a little more you're for sale rather than the tie, darling."

"You ain't no fun at all."

"Now this one, I do like."

"Are you fucking joking Harry, that one is literally just a close up of my arse."

"My point still stands."

"Fine. What d'you make of this one?"

"Perfect. The blue is particularly becoming on you, I think."

"Look who's fuckin' talking. Did I ever tell you that navy suit you got is my favourite?"

"You might have done, and then promptly thrown it to the floor."

"Well, as nice as your suits are babes, I like you best in nothin' at all."

Harry made a show of rolling his eyes, though really he found it excessively pleasing when Eggsy dropped seemingly off-hand but sincerely meant comments like that. He'd always been one for having his ego stroked, certainly, but it never felt of a temporary or superficial nature with Eggsy, like it had with certain past conquests. The two of them had spent the afternoon on the very grand and very uncomfortable leather sofa in Harry's office, the ghastly thing made slightly more acceptable by the fact that Eggsy was draped over Harry's lap, as they perused a series of test shots. The former was also eating a packet of Maltesers, crunching loudly and occasionally reaching down to wipe chocolate-sticky fingertips on his jeans after Harry had chided him for smudging the photos. 

After Harry having to own up to Merlin as far as making Eggsy aware of the true nature of Kingsman a little sooner than was conventional, Merlin had immediately looked up every scrap of information on the young man he didn't already know. In doing so, he had come up with a rather unexpected offer for him. Following a brief consultation with Arthur and Andrew, and an appalling amount of paperwork concerning confidentiality and such, Kingsman had agreed to hire Eggsy as a model for their very few and very exclusive advertising campaigns. It would be neck down shots only - preventing Eggsy's face being associated with the brand and such for his safety, should someone sniffing around Kingsman recognise him - but they usually only used mannequins, so why not shake things up a bit? Despite what most people thought, Harry could be a firm advocate for change when the mood struck him.

"I ain't sure about the waistcoat in this one..."

"I think it's rather dashing."

"Harry I could wear a fuckin' bin bag and you'd say it looks 'dashing.'"

"That awful jacket of yours isn't far off darling, and I've managed to refrain so far."

"Rude. When do I get to do the knickers shoot?"

"Kingsman doesn't have their own line of underwear, you know that."

"That doesn't mean I can't do a shoot. How about one just for you then, if you're gunna nit pick?"

~

After years in the game, as it were, Harry was thoroughly attuned to picking up on any minute differences in a familiar setting. As such, when he returned home one evening to find the heating had been noticeably turned up a few degrees, he was instantly on alert. Despite being well aware that it was almost certainly just that Eggsy had brought JB over with him and was fretting over the little bugger getting cold - though he doubted it was actually possible with the layer of fat the spoilt pug carried about with him - Harry couldn't help but get twitchy. Before he could fret over it much further however, Eggsy stepped into the hallway, and firmly set Harry's fears of home invasion to rest.

He wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, but _was_ holding an enormous bouquet of flowers in front of himself, a mess of pinks and purples bulked out with bright green fern that was rather reminiscent of the one in the picture still secretly stashed away in Harry's desk. And though he was smiling, that somehow both brash and lazy smile that Harry loved so much, there was a tightness around Eggsy's eyes that suggested uncertainty about how well his little performance would be accepted. He really needn't have worried. 

"Good evening."

"Alright." Eggsy blinked at him, jaw set, lovely flush starting to creep up his neck.

"And what could I possibly have done to deserve such an... enchanting welcome home?" Harry raised an eyebrow in question, unbuttoning his coat without looking away.

Eggsy shrugged, affecting nonchalance, though Harry could practically feel the anticipation thrumming under his skin. "I just remembered how hot and bothered you got over that pic of me as Mr May. Thought you might like a live re-enactment even better."

Harry almost laughed then. Only Eggsy could come up with such an utterly ridiculous, sexy, and heartfelt gesture as lying in wait for him with... hang on. "You turned up the heating so that you could lounge around with no clothes on while you waited for me to get home?" That was that mystery solved anyway. And given the situation, Harry was quite glad JB wasn't actually present - he had a tendency to stare. 

"Pretty much, yeah. I wasn't sure what time you'd be back." Eggsy said absently, sniffing at a stray purple bloom in the bouquet. "And your house is old as balls and fucking _cold_ Harry. Get some sodding double glazing like a normal person."

"I promise you I'll consider it," Harry said, slipping a finger under his tie to loosen it, "if you come over here and give me a kiss."

With that, Eggsy padded barefoot across the tiled floor of the hallway, glinting smirk firmly in place as though he were about to devour Harry whole - or let himself be devoured, either could have applied - and tilted his head up to kiss him softly, the flowers squashed between them. It stayed that way for a while, a gentle exchange of kisses, sweet and dry-lipped, until Eggsy snuck a hand down to pinch Harry's bum, which he took as a signal to step things up a bit, and lowered his head to kiss and suck lightly at Eggsy's neck, tongue flicking over the mole at his throat.

"You should put this lot in some water," Eggsy said in a somewhat strangled voice as Harry nosed along his jaw, hands resting on the warm small of his back.

"Mm, later," Harry said as he gently took the bouquet from Eggsy and set it aside, "I'm rather preoccupied at the moment."

"I didn't get them just so you could - _fuck,"_ Eggsy hissed and arched his back as Harry rubbed a thumb over his nipple, peaked and hard despite the artificial warmth drifting through the house, rolled his hips forward into Harry's.

With one last nip at Eggsy's lower lip, Harry brought his hands down to grasp his hips, gently walking him backwards until he was flush against the magnolia (a timeless colour, thank you very much) wallpaper. Without another word, Harry got to his knees right there in the hallway, though he knew his joints wouldn't thank him for the time spent kneeling on the cool tiles later on, and pressed a kiss to the waxed-smooth skin of Eggsy's belly. He peered up to see Eggsy gaping down at him, eyes blown wide and hazy, kiss-swollen lips parted as he breathed fast and shallow, the pink flush on his neck creeping up to his cheeks and his ears.

Harry let the heated skin of Eggsy's cock rest against his lips for a moment, the only sound Eggsy's breathing and the dull gurgle of the central heating, before he took him into his mouth. Eggsy swore and moved his hand to clutch at Harry's hair, blunt nails digging into his head - he still had a bad habit of chewing at them, when he was on edge. Breathing deep through his nose, Harry savoured the feel of Eggsy on his tongue, the smell of his skin, mint shower gel and too much deodorant tempered by the delicate fragrance of the pink roses now slightly crushed and wilting on the sideboard. One hand remained at Eggsy's hip, the other moving back to take a handful of that superb bottom that may have adorned the walls of offices up and down the country, but it was only Harry he allowed to touch.

It seemed utterly mad, how he'd fallen for the dewy-eyed boy holding a bunch of flowers, peering up at him from the glossy pages of a gag-gift calendar. An unattainable, perfect creature. But that wasn't the man he loved now. The young man he loved was the one who'd purposely stomped on his foot on the train for an excuse to introduce himself, a tremendous flirt who spoilt his dog and pouted in his pants for a living because it made people smile, who accepted the fact that Harry lived a life of violence and secrecy without batting an eyelid but threw a fit if he couldn't find the hat he wanted to wear that day or if Harry tried to kiss him after eating Marmite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't wtf this chapter is for the most part, it's more or less totally unnecessary and a bit rushed, buuut I hope you liked it all the same.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Merlin PoV chapter, very similar to the original one shot I posted. I swear down when I started posting this I did not plan for the December chapters to actually be posted in December, this was all just happy coincidence. And a fantastic cop-out for if I don't have time to write a Christmas fic.
> 
> Warning: That link goes to a slightly risque calendar

Merlin should have known that when he'd gifted Harry with that ridiculous pin-up boys calendar for a giggle, that his old friend would concoct his own convoluted revenge. He had expected it really, fair play to him, he'd have been disappointed if he hadn't. But what he did not expect was for Harry to end up shagging, nay forming a committed relationship with, Mr May of said sodding calendar. 

Mr May, who apparently went by 'Eggsy' when not posing for nude calendars, had done what any number of people had failed to do, and had successfully infiltrated Kingsman. Though Merlin wasn't entirely certain it counted as infiltrating when Harry had simply held open the door for the man to waltz right in. He could be found about the place any day of the week, lounging on the sofa in Harry's office with his stinky little pug, watching Lancelot and Percival bickering and attempting to out-shoot each other in the firing range, larking about with the tech staff and generally being an enormous distraction.  
But he could let all of that slide, massive security breach that it was, for one reason and one reason only. The delighted look on Harry's face whenever Eggsy strolled into the shop, the contentment that radiated from him whenever Eggsy leant up to kiss him in greeting, or absently stroked his hair while he was catching up on paperwork. The old bastard deserved some happiness, and fucked if Merlin was going to take it away from him over a trifling matter like national security. Besides, all the paperwork was signed and filed now, and Eggsy was _officially_ aware of Kingsman's existence. Heck, they'd even hired him for their next brochure for the shop, for crying out loud. The point was, prematurely and irresponsibly shared or not, their secret would remain safe with Eggsy Unwin, there was no doubt about that. 

Merlin regretted his generosity of spirit though, when he entered his office one day in December to find a Christmas present, precision wrapped and complete with hideous glittering bow, placed in the centre of his desk. The tag was written in Harry's even lettering, and Merlin seriously considered scanning it for anything potentially alarming until he actually bothered to read the note - 

_Perhaps this can do for you what your gift did for me, you old sod._  
_Harry._

Still suspicious, and deservedly so, after the disaster that was the gift Harry had bestowed upon his last birthday (the wallpaper in his office was still somewhat blistered in places) Merlin pulled off the wrapping paper.

"Are you fucking joking," he said aloud as he stared down at the truly God-awful calendar in his hands, eyes assaulted by acres of abs swathed in a plethora of different tartans. Worst of all was the title - [Kilty Pleasures.](https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kilty-Pleasures-2017-Square-Calendar/dp/141624283X)

"I told you he'd like it," said Harry to Eggsy from where the two of them had been lurking in the doorway waiting for Merlin's reaction, having somehow managed to sneak over there without him noticing. "I thought it might look rather nice above your desk," he continued breezily, wide-eyed with feigned innocence, the git, "in my experience, they rather add to a room."

Many claimed revenge was a dish best served cold, but in Merlin's experience, sometimes a swift retaliation was necessary and infinitely more satisfying. 

"Eggsy," said Merlin pleasantly, ignoring Harry's comment entirely, "have you ever happened to look in the middle left drawer of the desk in Harry's office?" Harry stilled, smug expression gone. _Ha. Gotcha now Hart._

"Nah," said Eggsy, frowning slightly in confusion. "Why would I?"

"If you were to go into Harry's office and open said drawer, I believe you'll find he still keeps a certain page of a certain calendar in there, despite having been in a relationship with the subject of said page for some months now, like the dirty old bugger he is." As far as Merlin was aware, Harry had no idea Merlin knew that he had the picture of Eggsy as Mr May stashed away in his drawer, proferring flowers, smiling shyly, and completely nude.

Harry looked mortified (ten points to Merlin) and Eggsy looked as though Christmas had come slightly but significantly early. "No fucking way," he said, looking between Harry and Merlin with obvious delight. "You keep that picture of me in your desk?"

"Well, you see I - "

"You and that fuckin' picture Harry, Jesus," Eggsy shook his head, but Merlin said nothing more, keen to remain in ignorance of any further significance the picture may have had between them thank you very much.

Harry shot Merlin a sour look. "Eggsy, it's not - "

"I'm going to look," Eggsy declared, still grinning like a madman, before darting off down the corridor.

"Fuck, Eggsy _wait,"_ Harry promptly tore off after him, Eggsy's laughter and sounds of their scuffle to reach Harry's office first echoing loudly through the corridor. Fools in love, the pair of them.

Merlin leant back in his chair, satisfied with the result of his attempted revenge, and contemplated the best place to hang his new calendar. It wouldn't do to let Harry win, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to ottersandhedgehogs, whose idea it was to have Harry give Merlin the Kilty Pleasures calendar.
> 
> And thanks for reading guys, it's been fun <3


End file.
